Joie Edson - Derailed on the Bipolar Express

DERAILED ON THE BIPOLAREXPRESS

Martin Sisters Publishing Company,Inc.

www.martinsisterspublishing.com

Copyright 2018 JoieEdson

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by Martin Sisters Publishing,Company, Inc. Kentucky

Smashwords Edition

Memoir

Edited by Renee Belcastro

This book is also available in printat most online retailers.

This ebook is licensed for yourpersonal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or givenaway to other people. If you would like to share this book withanother person, please purchase an additional copy for eachrecipient. If youre reading this book and did not purchase it, orit was not purchased for your use only, then please return to yourfavorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you forrespecting the hard work of this author.

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to the parents andfamilies raising children who are coping with mood disorders. Weshall travel on this journey together, and by sharing our stories,someday minimize the stigma associated with mental illness.

For Tommy.

ACKNOWLEGEMENTS

I wish to thank everyone who has coaxed,coached, convinced, and even threatened me to finally share mystory of raising two sons with mental illness.

Foremost, I want to thank Jim for hisscrupulous editing skills and unwavering support. More than twoyears ago, I shared with him my goal to write this book. I told himthat I didnt know how to begin the book, I couldnt remember thechronological order of all the events. The details of the past 15years were easy to recall, but the timeline was foggy. He suggestedthat I begin anywhere. Precise dates werent important. Sharing mystory was what mattered the most. He patiently offered hisassistance with the editing along the way, but most importantly,provided me with compassion and love as I poured out my soul oneach page.

Kisses and hugs to my dear friend June, whooffered to read and review my story as I wrote each chapter. Thewisdom, advice, and wit she provided helped me to stay on track andkeep on writing.

Thank you to my daughter, JoEllen. Herconstant, yet not so gentle, reminder that I promised her fatherthat I would someday chronicle our familys journey gave me theimpetus to finally begin writing. Many times, she urged me towrite the damn book and often threatened to beat me to it.

I also would like to thank the MassachusettsDepartment of Mental Health, the Wakefield Police Department, andthe countless psychiatrists, therapists, and social workersthroughout Massachusetts who have aided my sons.

Most of all, I want to thank TJ and Kayvon.Thank you both for allowing me to frankly and openly share yourstory. I love you and hope you continue to grow in strength,wisdom, and acceptance.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

Fasten Your Seatbelts. Its Going to Be a BumpyRide.

He was in front of me, bent over with his shortspulled down below his knees, taunting me. You want your car key?Its in there. Come and get it. I was appalled and disgusted. Hehad taken my car key and shoved it up his ass. Although this wasnot the most profound or notable act that my son had committedagainst me, it was one of the most disturbing.

I awoke to the sound of my doorbell early thatmorning. My initial thought was that I wasnt expecting a packageto be delivered that early in the day. Then a familiar sense ofdread took over. My heart began to race at the realization that myson was paying me an unexpected visit at 7:00 a.m. Early morningvisits meant trouble. He was unable to sleep due to mania. He wouldbe demanding money. His behavior would be erratic andunpredictable. I hesitated, taking a deep breath, before openingthe door.

The visit, as typical, began pleasantly enough. Helooked disheveled with dark circles and hooded eyes from lack ofsleep. I was wary, yet I welcomed him in and offered him breakfast.He told me he just needed to use my dryer to dry his clothes. Hehad gotten soaked in the rain from driving his scooter the 10-miletrip from his Boston apartment to my condo. We exchanged a fewpleasantries. His mood was labile: one minute calm, the next sad,then angry. While petting our family dog, he started to cry,expressing his sadness that she was getting old and would not bewith us much longer. Soon, the demands began. Im broke. You needto give me my money. Its my money, not yours. You are myRepresentative Payee and you are, by law, supposed to give me mymoney when I need it. I informed him that his monthly payment forSocial Security Disability had run out. I offered to give him $20to hold him over. Thats not enough. I need at least $150. Irefused. That refusal set him off.

He took my phone and demanded that I transfer moneyinto his account. I told him I wanted him to leave immediately. Ifelt threatened and began screaming at him to give me back my phoneor I would call the police. He confiscated my iPad next, once againdemanding a transfer of funds. I begged him to give me back myphone and iPad and threatened to drive to the police station if hedidnt leave my condo. Thats when he grabbed my keys, removed mycar key from the chain, and shoved it up his ass. I becamehysterical and began chasing him around my condo, pleading with himto return my car key. At one point a physical fight ensued and hethreatened me with a knife. I left my condo and ran to the policestation, which thankfully was only one-half mile away.

When I arrived at the police station, I was met byan officer familiar with me and my family. Unfortunately, forbetter or worse, the entire town is familiar with me and my family.There have been countless calls and trips to the police stationover the past 15 years. The female officer sensed the reason for myvisit as soon as I walked in looking desperate and ashamed. Sheinvited me to take a seat. Looks like youre having a bad day.Trouble again? Dont worry things will eventually get better. Iturned to her and asked, Will things ever get better? Im not sosure about that.

While telling my best friend about this most recent,disturbing incident, she turned to me and stated, Its anotherchapter for your book. Countless times Ive been told I need towrite a book about the trials and tribulations of raising two boyswho suffer from bipolar disorder 1 with psychosis. Their father,prior to his death from terminal stage 4 cancer, requested, as adying wish, that I write a book. I have tried, on severaloccasions, during the past 15 years to begin writing. What hasprolonged this process is the fact that I dont remember everyhospitalization, every arrest, or every conviction that has led tothe time my sons have spent in jail due to the severity of theirmental illness. The dates and the details of every psychotic andmanic episode have become blurred in the past 15 years.

Ive even questioned the purpose of writing thebook. Will anyone want to read about the life of an ordinary womanwho has unfortunately had to learn to survive extraordinary eventscaused by the psychotic episodes of her two mentally ill sons?Perhaps you are reading this book to gain insight on coping with afamily member who has mental illness. Perhaps you just want to readabout the bizarre and dysfunctional behavior caused by people whosuffer from bipolar disorder. Maybe you simply want advice fromsomeone who has learned to cope.